Minutia
by Gibs
Summary: Harm/Mac. In a continuing effort to archive all my JAG stories to one spot, here is another HBX Fanfic Challenge - this time from January 07. The night before Valentine's Day, Mac finally decides she's had enough and takes matters into her own hands.


Originally written for an HBX January 2007 Challenge

Disclaimer: _JAG_ and its characters are the property of Belisarius Productions and Donald P. Bellisario. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights they have and is not intended for profit in any way.

Category: AU, Vignette, Romance H/M (aka fluff).

Rating: K

Summary: Just taking advantage of the January challenge to write about yet another way our dynamic duo could have gotten together. This could probably take place at any time, but more likely any time in Seasons 7-10, after Mac came back from the Guadalcanal.

**MINUTIA**

She couldn't believe it had come again. Not this day. Not another one of these depressing, over hyped, Hallmark holidays that only served to emphasize the exact opposite of everything that had come to be her life.

Didn't they realize that every time they played one of those sentimental, saccharine-sweet commercials, every time they put up a window display full of candy hearts and balloons and devoted men presenting flowers to their equally adoring wives, it only served to painfully wound the hearts of many a lonely soul who had no one to go home to? Couldn't they just give her a break? Didn't they see that it was painful enough just to go to work everyday? Did they have to rub it in?

There had been a time when she'd had men to give her flowers. When she had felt at least somewhat loved on this day, and it had been nice. But that had all changed hadn't it? It had all changed that fateful day when she'd decided it wasn't enough just to have someone who loved you. Maybe it would have been enough if she had never met 'the one'. But she had met him, and she had learned the hard way that she'd rather be alone than be in another relationship with someone that wasn't him. It had been her own decision, hadn't it? And it had been the right one, she knew that. It just would have been a hell of a lot easier to deal with if it didn't hurt so much. And if they hadn't found it necessary to taunt her with days like this.

Mac awkwardly closed the door behind her with one high-heeled shoe, before she crossed the floor to her couch - slumping into it like a defeated quarterback and sending briefcase and files into a discarded heap on the floor. Why had every day become like this? Going to work with a hint of hope that today might just be the day. That maybe something would finally happen that would cause this relationship purgatory to suddenly careen in the inevitable direction of love and perfection and… well, great sex… there was no doubt about that. But it would never happen. They would smile politely… sometimes a little more than politely… trade pleasantries, maybe even the occasional joke if she was lucky, but that line would never get crossed. Who was she kidding? That line wasn't a line any more, it was a chasm – and that chasm was slowly killing her.

She wandered through her evening routine, the same as always, out of the uniform, on with something a little more comfortable… a little more feminine just in case tonight was one of those rare nights he chose to 'be in the neighborhood', ask her for advice, or heaven of all heavens, bring her greasy take-out for no apparent reason at all.  
Mac hugged her mug of tea closer as she again found herself ensconced on the sofa, and pondered that statement. He did love her – he had to. People don't do things like that, don't make hints of future possibilities, don't stand by you through thick and thin, don't look at you like that… and they certainly don't propose a deal to make babies with you if they don't love you… do they? Then why the chasm? Why had it become so impossible to initiate their own version of the 'crossing of the line' ceremony? Sure there were the obvious work-related issues and other various and sundry baggage, but suddenly, sitting alone on her couch on the eve of St. Valentine's Day, when there was someone across town she loved so much she couldn't think straight, all those reasons just seemed like so much tiny, insignificant… minutia. There was no other word for it.

But there's the rub – she had come to this point before. Made the resolution to march herself over to his door and confront him on this very issue, but it had never turned out well, had it? Somehow, every time, something had gone horribly wrong. Him not there, someone else there with him, or sometimes, just not even getting the nerve to knock on the damn door in the first place. Somehow losing all resolve during the drive over. She cringed at the thought of going through that again and took another sip of tea. Was he really waiting for her to make the first move? Had she beat down his subtle hints and innuendos so effectively that he dared not budge until she did? She had been the first to move that night in Sydney, but in truth, she hadn't been fair – hadn't really dug to find out what his cryptic comments could mean for fear of them meaning the worst - that he didn't really think of her like that. Now she knew better. She knew he thought of her like that. And she thought of him like that… boy, did she ever. She liked to think of him in many ways, most of which involved very little or no clothing…

"Oh this is ridiculous!" Mac suddenly bolted to her feet, dropping her teacup rather profoundly onto the coffee table, and began to pace. "I can't do this anymore. There has to be a way…" suddenly, she eyed the handset sitting idly in it's tray, happily charging away, oblivious to the ramifications of it's existence.  
No. She couldn't do it that way. After all these years, saying it over the telephone – it wouldn't be right. It should be said face to face. But that had never worked, had it? Surely it had to be better to say it over the phone than never at all?  
With the weight of everything bearing down on her, without the will to go about this the 'right way', she reached for the telephone and hit the speed dial button.  
Tones beeped, connections were made and ringing sounds began, but nowhere in Mac's conscious did she have any clue how she was going to go about this. Her only thought was that she couldn't go on like _this_ anymore. '_This_' was no longer acceptable and it had to be changed.

"Hello?"

"Harm?"

If he hadn't already been sitting down, he was sure his knees would have given out at the ominous sound of her voice. He knew her many tones of voice, and this one sent worry through every bone in his tall body. "Mac. What's wrong?"

"I…" she only took a moment to marshal her courage before she continued. "I can't do this anymore."

Harm's sudden moment of concern turned to outright fear when he grasped her words. She couldn't… she wouldn't… not his strong, proud Marine. "Talk to me, Mac. What can't you do?" His voice sounded infinitely more controlled than he presently felt.

"This… with us. I can't do this with us anymore, Harm. It's just… not working."

If he thought his concern that she might be thinking of taking her own life was pronounced, it had nothing on his sudden fear at the words that she might possibly be thinking of severing ties. Of forcing the inevitable, yet deeply feared career posting that had always threatened to separate them. How could she do this to him, tonight of all nights? Just as he was working up the nerve to do something. Maybe drop by unexpectedly with flowers. Nothing too obvious, but just a little something to make her remember she was loved, and that he was still waiting. "Then we'll fix it."

"How?"

He hesitated at that. Not quite even sure what part of their relationship he was expected to fix. He hoped it was the part he was thinking of. The part that had them sleeping in separate bedrooms, in opposite ends of town. "Tell me what you're feeling."

Fear gripped her heart. "Why does it always have to be me? Why can't you tell _me_ what _you're_ feeling?"

Harm laughed nervously. "Well, to tell the truth Marine, I'm feeling a little scared right now."

"Why?" She was on a no-holds-barred barrel roll now. Mission before man.

"I guess… because you sound like you've made some sort of decision… without me."

"Did you want to be in on the decision?"

"Yes."

His lack of hesitation made her heart quiver for an instant. Could this really work? Could it really be this easy? Her mind whirled and began to scold her for storming the beach without a plan. Some Marine.

"Mac?"

"Why?"

"Why what?" He knew what she was asking, but his instinct was to fall back on his much loved and reliable stalling technique. Why did stalling an aircraft suddenly seem so much simpler?

"Why do you want to be in on the decision?"

"Because I want…" Harm scrambled to choose his words wisely, "…because I have a lot invested in the outcome of that decision. Don't you?"

She was almost sure of it now. He was just scared. "Yes. At least I think… at least I hope I do." When he failed to respond, she continued. "Harm?"

"Yes." His voice was barely a whisper.

"I can't go on the way things have been. Not one more day."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Answer one question. Honestly. Can you do that? Just one question without dropping chaff or being cryptic or answering a question with another question".

He quickly nixed his first two automatic responses 'I think so' and 'I can try' for fear they would only get him into further trouble. 'Suck it up, Buttercup. You blow this and you won't even _get_ to kiss her good-bye'. "Yes."

Now that she had the promise – what question did she need to ask? The obvious didn't even seem to cover what she needed to know. "Do you…" she took a breath to muster her nerves "… do you want… us? Are you ready?"

She wasn't sure which hurt more, the moment's hesitation that followed or the sound of the connection being cut. For a moment she just stared at the phone as tears welled in her eyes. How could he? Although she supposed she should be thankful she was spared the pain of an outright negative response, he could have at least been gentler than that, couldn't he? So overwhelmed at the enormity of his rejection, she almost didn't register the incessant banging at her apartment door. She opened it on automatic reaction only, not by any real will. The man standing there put her further into a state of immobility. He held up his cell phone in apology, his eyes full of pain at the tears in hers.

"I lost the signal in your elevator. 'Yes'."

It took a moment for Mac's brain to kick back into gear. "Yes?"

"Yes I want us. Yes I'm ready. Are you?" He walked the few steps across the threshold and stood in front of her.

She was still rendered motionless - the sudden slingshot of emotions having put her into a mental flat spin. She could only nod until her voice finally kicked back in "Yes."

There was a moment of total silence, the only sound being their labored breathing, before Harm's hand reached out tentatively to touch her. Instead of a caress however, he simply pressed his fingers against her shoulder.

"Harm? What are you doing?"

"Making sure it's really you. I've been known to hallucinate moments like this."

"It's me…" she smiled shaking her head, "…but, Harm…" she continued, holding her phone up in bewilderment, "I called your apartment."

He smiled and moved closer still. "Call forwarding" he whispered as if he were already wooing her with words of love.

She shook her head quickly to remove the fog of confusion and tossed the now useless device over her shoulder. "Harm?"

"Yes."

"Please kiss me. Please kiss me and don't ever stop."

And so he did. And he didn't.


End file.
